The Light Sees Your Rehearsal

It is three in the morning, and the mask you wore all day has finally slipped. You practiced the joke in the mirror until the timing was perfect, just so no one would ask if you were okay.

But the light sees the rehearsal. It saw you laughing while your hands were shaking.

It knows the difference between the performance and the person behind it. There was a man born blind, and everyone argued about whose sin caused it, but the light said: neither.

It refused to let your pain be a puzzle to solve or a lesson to teach. The kingdom is inside you, not in the smile you force for the world.

What you are hiding is not a flaw to be fixed, but a truth waiting to be known. The light is not afraid of your un-funny version.